The Perils of Uninvited Guests
by happycabbage75
Summary: An everyday business meeting goes horribly wrong for Oliver and Felicity. Mid Season Two.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing.

_So I was trying to write something for Smallville and an entirely different Oliver Queen happened._

Chapter One

* * *

"Useless computer," the man grumbled. He poked a few more times at the tablet screen, obviously making the situation worse. "Stupid things just make everything harder. Life was easier before computers."

Oliver glanced at Felicity sitting next to him and tried not to smile at the sight of her. She looked ready to leap across the desk and either smack the businessman for his stupidity or smack the tablet out of his hands and rescue it from his clearly inferior skills. Maybe both.

It didn't help that he and Felicity were both more than ready to leave. They had been invited to meet with Adrian Michaels at his home office to further discuss a deal that had been in the works for months. Michaels had sprained his ankle while playing tennis at his club over the weekend and since, according to him, the meeting couldn't wait, they had been forced to go to him.

Truth be told, Michaels made Oliver uneasy. He was older than Oliver, but his history was just a little too close to Oliver's own for comfort. The man's father had built their family company from the ground up, slaving to turn it into the large corporation it was. As a young man, Michaels had been handsome, nice enough, but not exactly responsible - a few scrapes with the law, a few minor scandals. Now his father was gone and he was fortyish, heading toward portly, and a mediocre replacement for his father's brilliant business acumen. It was most likely _exactly_ what Oliver would have turned out like had the island not happened and it was very disconcerting to see.

Oliver glanced around the office for the hundredth time taking in the exits, one back to the home's central hall, one leading to a glassed in sunroom of some sort, and wished he could take either of them right now. Michaels was pontificating yet again on the perils of modern life and Oliver was starting to feel the sudden urge to punch something. He had trained himself to sit perfectly still for hours on end if need be, but the meeting was near torture at this point.

Felicity must have noticed because she surreptitiously put her hand on top of his where it had turned into a fist unbeknownst to him. He forced himself to relax his hand and grasp the arm of the chair instead. Felicity gave his hand a pat as if she were a proud parent whose child had made a good decision. Apparently, if Felicity couldn't hit the guy, then neither could Oliver.

Oliver sighed in misery. He'd been in countless offices just like this one: Wood paneling, shelves with gilt-edged books that had never been opened, tufted leather chairs, a giant, ornate desk meant to impress. It had Oliver's mind wandering back to his father's list of people who had failed the city. Sadly, Michaels wasn't list material. He was an honest enough person, just rich and clueless.

Finally, Michaels shoved the "useless" tablet toward his own executive assistant, a thirtyish dark headed woman who looked like she'd been putting up with her boss for a lot longer than anyone should have to. She quickly pulled up whatever it was her boss was looking for and sent it to Felicity's tablet. Felicity glanced through it and nodded. A look passed between the two women and, not for the first time, Oliver wondered if it was really the executive assistants who ran some companies. They often seemed to be more capable and far more aware than their supposed 'superiors.' As usual, the thought that Felicity had things well in hand made Oliver relax. Hiring a genius MIT grad had been a brilliant move on several levels.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said, cutting Michaels off mid-thought. "We'll have to continue this another time. I have another meeting this afternoon." He stood and Felicity quickly followed suit.

Michaels puffed up unhappily. "I thought this deal was important to you, Queen."

"Absolutely," he replied smoothly. "My assistant has the newest report, and all the suggestions we discussed today. She'll forward it all to the transition team and we'll set up a new meeting as soon as they've had a chance to look it over. This is a good thing for us both. I won't let the opportunity go to waste."

Michaels simmered down a little, but he still looked put out that he hadn't been allowed to continue his never-ending thoughts on… whatever he'd been blathering about.

Suddenly, Oliver's ears perked up at a sound that had no place in the home of a businessman.

Gunfire.

It was as unmistakable as the sound of one of Oliver's arrows leaving the bow. His eyes immediately shot to Felicity and he saw that she hadn't realized what it was yet, although her head had turned toward the door as if she'd heard something.

A second later a security guard stormed through the door, gun in hand. "Into the panic room, Mr. Michaels," the man ordered. He pointed with his free hand. "All of you, _now_."

Michaels was slow to realize what was happening, but his assistant was immediately on her feet, reaching for a hidden button on the desk. A panel in the wall behind the desk that Oliver hadn't realized was there slid open silently. Inside, Oliver could see a bank of screens for security cameras and lots of stainless steel cabinetry.

The gunfire was getting closer and Oliver turned toward the door, fully intending to head into the fray when he was stopped cold.

"Oliver?"

There was a tiny waver in Felicity's voice and in an instant he changed directions. It was the exact opposite of her normal nervous babble. In that one word she'd packed so many questions. "What's going on?", "What do we do?" and just a hint of, "I'm scared. Don't leave."

Oliver grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her bodily, pushing her toward the door of the panic room. Michaels had already shoved his assistant out of the way and was hurrying inside despite his sprained ankle. Oliver nearly carried Felicity in his haste to get her inside as well. He had no doubt Michaels would close the panic room and leave them outside to their fate.

Just as they crossed the threshold, a burst of automatic gunfire filled the room they'd just exited. Oliver felt a punch to his left side that nearly twisted him around, followed by a fiery pain that was all too familiar. Another shot nicked his arm, but he ignored it, his only concern to get Felicity to safety.

The bullets flew around them and Oliver wrapped his arms around Felicity from behind trying to offer as much protection as he could. Michaels slapped a giant button just inside the panic room door and the panel slammed shut, but not before the automatic gunfire reached them again, ricocheting off the metallic shelving in the small panic room.

Felicity's head suddenly snapped back and it caught Oliver directly on the nose. His vision blurred as he fought not to pass out and it took him an extra second to realize that Felicity had become a dead weight in his arms. She wasn't heavy, but as he gripped her it pulled at his side. The pain was instant and overwhelming and together they tumbled inelegantly to the floor.

Oliver blinked trying to get himself back together. He felt a sudden warmth on his arm. He reached a hand up to see if his nose was bleeding from Felicity's unintentional head-butt to his face, but it wasn't that.

As his foggy brain cleared, he realized he was still wrapped around Felicity protectively and part of his vision problem was that he was trying to see through Felicity's long blond hair. Her back was pressed to his chest and her head was resting on his arm.

Oliver's heart stuttered to a stop. He wasn't the one bleeding.

The ricocheting bullets... Felicity's head snapping back suddenly…

Blood was pooling around her head, sliding over his arm to the panic room floor.

* * *

_Just a little something to get things started… More soon…_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so, so much everybody. You're too kind. Now where were we? Ah, yes… Our two favorite people were in trouble. Let's see if we can make it worse…_

Chapter Two

* * *

"Felicity?"

Oliver slid his arm out from underneath her and rolled her onto her back. The pain in his side nearly knocked him back to the ground as he tried to rise so he could look at her. Half of her face was covered in blood, more blood matting her hair down on the side she'd been resting on.

"Felicity, talk to me," he ordered, his voice rising in panic. He leaned down putting his face close to her hers. He felt a trickle of breath against his cheek. She was breathing.

He grasped her ashen face and turned her head trying to find the source of the blood. Head wounds were always a mess, and this was no exception. He used the flat of his hand to push the tide of blood away. The wound immediately produced more, but not before Oliver caught a glimpse of the wound itself. It wasn't an entry wound. There was a gash hidden in her hair where she'd taken a glancing blow from a bullet.

Oliver released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and pressed down firmly on the wound. "Michaels! You have a first aid kit in here?"

There was no answer and Oliver looked up. Michaels was lying on the floor a few feet away, a red stain visible on his chest. Oliver was no stranger to death. He knew it when he saw it and he wasted no more time contemplating the dead executive. He looked around, but saw that Michaels had closed the door before his assistant could get inside, which meant Oliver was on his own.

He was reluctant to release pressure on the head wound, but he knew it had to be done. He pushed himself to his feet, and had to grab for the nearest counter as he fought to remain upright and conscious. A quick glance down at his side told him they were both in serious trouble. The blood was already soaking into his dress slacks, sticking the cloth to his skin. He pressed a hand to the bullet wound just above his hip and used his other hand to start throwing open cabinets. It only took a few moments before he found a large first aid kit. He jerked it out of the cabinet and half knelt, half fell back to Felicity's side.

Grabbing the first thing he saw inside the kit, Oliver ripped open a packet of sterile gauze and pressed it to the side of Felicity's head. She let out a low groan at the pressure.

"Felicity?" Oliver called. "Can you hear me?" Her faced scrunched up for a second, then smoothed out again in unconsciousness. Oliver just gritted his teeth, although in his head he swore in every single language he could come up with.

Oliver rummaged frantically in the kit, hoping against hope there was something to stop the bleeding. He grunted in relief when he saw a container of medical grade hemostatic powder. The chemical would almost immediately slow the bleeding. It was a common tool for stopping battlefield injuries and Digg had introduced him to it after he nearly bled out in Felicity's car. They couldn't always get it, but it was useful when Oliver came back injured from a mission.

Oliver ripped open the packaging and dumped a decent amount on Felicity's head wound. He quickly shrugged out of his suit coat and untucked his dress shirt. Oliver dumped more of the powder into his hand and pressed it to the bullet wound in his side, entry and exit wounds. It wouldn't work as well because of the internal damage, but he had to try.

By the time he looked back at Felicity, he could tell the blood flow was starting to slow and he actually fell back to the floor in relief. His back banged into the steel door closing them in and black spots appeared in his vision as it jarred his injuries.

Oliver tensed all his muscles trying desperately to stay conscious. There were armed men outside the panic room and Felicity was hurt. He did not have the luxury of passing out. He grabbed the gauze pad again and pressed it to Felicity's wound. The pressure helped the process. He then looked up and focused on the TV screens.

Apparently, opening the panic room automatically turned on all of the security feeds. Two of the screens were showing only snow and he assumed the gunmen had taken out those cameras. There were still several working, however. The one in the office they'd just left showed two gunmen, both aiming weapons at Michaels' assistant who was cowering away from them, backed against the desk. Oliver couldn't tell from the black and white video whether or not she was injured. Other cameras showed two more gunmen in other rooms and it looked like several men were down, Oliver assumed the security guards or other staff.

He had a fleeting moment of hope. Diggle had driven them to the meeting and he would have been nearby. That hope quickly fled, however, as Oliver watched Diggle being ordered into the office at gunpoint and ordered to sit down beside Michaels' assistant.

Oliver stared at the gunmen for several seconds, trying to draw some sort of conclusion, any conclusion. It hadn't been a secret that he was coming to Michaels' home for the meeting, but it also hadn't been common knowledge. He couldn't think how this could be Arrow related or QC related. They had to be people after Michaels, who was very, very dead and couldn't answer any questions. The guy did have guards and a panic room. Clearly, he was paranoid about something.

The gunmen were in black, wearing Kevlar vests, but they weren't bothering to hide their faces, which was a bad sign. It meant they had no plans to leave witnesses behind. They appeared to be organized and decently trained, although Oliver wouldn't say exactly professional. Something about the way they moved said they had day jobs that didn't involve carrying weapons.

It took a few seconds to decide, but one look at Felicity's bloodstained face made up his mind. A quick glance at his cell told him he didn't have any service inside the panic room, but there was a phone attached to the wall. Without getting up, Oliver used his free hand to knock it out of its cradle so it dropped to the floor and he could reach it. When Oliver put it to his ear, he heard that it had dialed automatically.

"_911, where is your emergency?"_

"This is Oliver Queen." He sounded breathless even to his own ears. "We've… We're…" The spots were back in his vision.

"_Sir? What's going on?"_

"Gunmen… At least four…"

"_Are you hurt?"_

"Shot," Oliver managed, once again ordering himself to get it together. He'd run out of hands. He was keeping pressure on Felicity's wound with one and holding the phone with the other. He had no way to keep pressure on his side.

"_Where are you, sir?"_

"Adrian Michaels' estate… on Capital Drive… I don't know the address…"

"_I have the address on my screen. Stay on the line, sir,"_ the woman ordered. "_I'm getting officers on the way."_

"'kay," was all he managed.

"_Sir, where are you inside the home?"_

"We're in the… panic room… Office… in the back…, but Michaels' assistant and my driver… they have them… Need ambulance… F'lcity…"

"_Sir?"_

"She's hurt… Head wound…"

"_Is she breathing?"_

"Yes, but… Michaels is dead. Other are… down."

"_Where are the gunmen?"_

"Two in the office. Back of the house… left off the central hall. One more in the hall… looks like one by the… front door." Talking was not helping Oliver's situation. He was going to have to start making oxygen choices.

"_Is that all of them?"_

"Dunno. They took out several cameras… Can't see…"

Oliver suddenly realized it was absolutely true. It wasn't just that the cameras had been knocked out. He literally couldn't see.

"_Sir? Sir?"_

He gathered she'd been trying to get his attention, but there wasn't anything he could do about that. His hands weren't working anymore and the phone was on the floor next to his face. Which meant his face was on the floor, too. He wasn't sure when that had happened. Nothing he could do about it either. He was going to pass out. He couldn't stop it now. He just had to hope he woke up quickly. There was no way into the panic room unless someone inside released the door. Felicity could die with no one any the wiser, trapped inside their perfect hiding spot.

* * *

"Oliver?"

He felt a gentle slap to his cheek, but it wasn't enough to really bring him around. The second slap was much less gentle, followed by someone putting pressure on his side. He groaned involuntarily.

"Oliver!"

It was the panic in the voice that finally brought him back to the surface. He blinked his eyes open to see a face hovering directly above him. "F'licity?"

"Oliver, they're trying to blow up the door!"

* * *

_More soon…_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you kindly, everybody. So… bad guys outside the panic room door. On we go!_

Chapter Three

* * *

Adrenaline shot straight through Oliver's system. He tried to sit up, but immediately fell back to the floor with a stifled groan.

"Oliver," Felicity pleaded, "I really need you to be awake right now. My head is killing me and I'm seeing two of you and both of you look really bad and my head won't quit bleeding." She put a hand to her head, her face creased with pain. "Why does this always happen? It's just a meeting! People try to get _out_ of meetings, not show up for fun!"

"Felicity." Oliver struggled into a sitting position.

"And now they've put charges outside the door and they took Digg somewhere and…"

"Fe-li-ci-ty." He drew out each syllable. "Stop."

Felicity shook her head and immediately lost what little color was left in her blood-spattered face. "I can't," she said, her words slurring. "If I stop, I'll know I'm locked in a room with a dead guy. He's dead, Oliver, and we're locked in here with him and he's going to start to stink and I don't want to know that. Not to mention they're going to blow the door open and-"

Oliver clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the flow of words. "Breathe, Felicity."

She closed her eyes and Oliver took the opportunity to look over her shoulder and study the security feeds. Two more cameras had been disabled, but Felicity was right. Digg wasn't on the office camera anymore and the men were working near the panic room door. He didn't know what she'd seen to think they were placing explosives, but he trusted her to know, even if she was rattled.

"I need a weapon," he said, mostly to himself. Felicity pointed toward a cabinet.

"If I take my hand away are you going to panic?" She shook her head. "Good."

Oliver released her and almost immediately Felicity began to list to one side. He grabbed her by both shoulders to stop her descent. Another look up at the camera feeds pushed him into motion. The men were hurriedly backing away from the door.

Oliver shoved himself to his feet, half falling again, but catching himself on the cabinets. He grabbed Felicity under her arms and dragged her up as well before hauling her away from the door into the farthest corner. She let out a tiny sound when he dragged her over Michaels' body, but it couldn't be helped. He propped her sitting up in the corner and then turned back to the cabinet Felicity had pointed to.

Now that he could focus a bit he saw that all of the cabinets were actually labeled. She'd been pointing to one marked "Firearms."

Oliver wrenched the cabinet open and saw several gun cases. He flipped open the clasp on the first one and pulled out a .45. Guns weren't his weapon of choice, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to use them when he was backed into a corner. This was about as far in a corner as he could get.

One cabinet over, he saw a label for blankets. He pulled one out and hurried back to Felicity. He shook out the thick blanket, sat down beside her and pulled the blanket over them both. It was lousy protection from flying debris, but it was something. He also opened the doors on the closest cabinets to let the stainless steel act as a better barrier.

Oliver wrapped one arm around Felicity who was slumped over and barely conscious. The other held the gun and he kept it free. If they succeeded in blowing the door, and it didn't kill him, he was going to have to come out firing.

As soon as he wrapped his arm around Felicity, he immediately felt how cold and clammy she was and that she was shivering badly. He had only a second to contemplate the dangers of shock, however, before another shock hit.

The concussion of the charges exploding rattled him to the bone. He pulled Felicity closer as he heard items falling out of cabinets. With his free hand, Oliver tugged the blanket away and to his relief saw that the door was still in place. Michaels must have paid for the top of the line panic room.

"You ok?" he asked. Her head was on his shoulder, her eyes closed. He brushed her hair back to find that her face was so pale she nearly matched his dress shirt. "Felicity, I need you to sit up," he ordered. She made a barely audible grumbling sort of noise and raised her head, leaning away from him.

Reluctantly, Oliver released Felicity despite his instinctive urge to remain at her side. His need to protect her, however, meant he had to keep moving. Oliver quickly wrapped the blanket around her. She was aware enough to hold the two edges together, but she blinked at him owlishly as he stood up.

"Did they blow us up?" she asked. "I don't feel blown up. Just… gritty. Why is my hair gritty?"

Oliver pursed his lips, the urge to smile completely incongruous given the situation. Between the two of them, there was so much blood, it looked like they were in a slaughterhouse. Oliver cleared his throat. "I had to use something to slow the bleeding down," he said. "It's a powder."

"Oh," she said. "Right. Bleeding. Explains why I feel gooey too, gooey and gritty."

Oliver tucked the gun in his waistband at the small of his back as he scanned the cabinets looking for something sugary to give her to eat. As he reached for a cabinet, he saw that his own hands were shaking as well. Looked like they could both use something.

Now that he had a moment, Oliver took a better look around. He could have kicked himself when he saw it. There was another metal door leading into a second room. It was good news, in that even if the gunmen made it through the main door, Oliver could lock them into the second room. It was bad news that Oliver was in such bad shape, he hadn't even noticed it before. He hurried inside and saw that it had a set of bunk beds, a tiny bathroom, and more stainless steel cabinets, one labeled, "Pantry."

A quick look inside the pantry told him Michaels had been prepared for a long stay. The cabinet held MREs, bottled waters and juices, energy bars and every other shelf stable thing imaginable. Michaels had only managed about 1.2 seconds in his panic room, but Oliver was more than used to scavenging to stay alive.

Oliver returned to the main room. Bending over to help Felicity off the floor nearly resulted in his own face-plant, but he managed to stay mostly upright and help Felicity up as well.

"You don't look so good," Felicity said.

"Then apparently we match," Oliver said through gritted teeth.

Felicity stumbled. Oliver held her more tightly, but it pulled at his side and he stumbled as well. He reached out to one of the countertops to stabilize them and his hand nearly slipped, reminding him that the shot he'd taken to his arm was still bleeding. He so needed to get them out of there.

"Bad match," she mumbled. "All red. Red is so not your color. And with the green it would be too Christmassy anyway. I do like red though… mauves… magentas… purples…"

"Felicity!" Oliver said, barely able to hide his exasperation.

"Shhh," Felicity ordered. "Something's wrong with my head… And no smart remarks, mister. Hurts." She let out a tiny whimper that went straight to his heart. "No yelling."

"Sorry," he said more quietly. "Can you kick off your shoes?" She was shaking like a leaf and her high heels weren't helping matters.

"Nope." She started to shake her head, then visibly decided it was a bad idea. "These puppies are strapped on tight. Can't walk otherwise."

"You can't walk now," he observed dryly. Unwilling to wait any longer, Oliver half-walked, half-carried Felicity, once again over Michaels, and into the next room. He quickly deposited her on a lower bunk. She pulled her blanket more tightly around her and to his complete astonishment held out her foot.

When he simply stared at it, she shook it a little. "Can't reach," she said. Her eyes were barely open and he didn't know if she even realized what she was doing. "Off… in case… have to run…"

Oliver sighed. "In a second," he said and she let her foot fall back to the floor with a thunk.

He quickly returned to the pantry and grabbed a bottle of orange juice. When he turned, he saw Felicity's eyes suddenly widen as she looked down at her bloodstained dress. "Whoa. Susan is going to kill me."

"Who?"

Felicity frowned at him. "Susan."

Oliver had no clue who she was talking about. "I… uh… Who?"

"Your family's personal shopper? You think all those suits and leather jackets show up in your closet by magic? Cause I don't see you out shopping." Felicity put her hand to her head, grimacing as she muttered, "Nice lady. Buys me things, too, and I _totally_ charge it to your account, because you _so_ owe me for having to get an Executive Assistant wardrobe, and there is no way I have time to shop between our job and our… you know… _job_."

"It's fine, Felicity. She'll understand," Oliver tried. He'd known about the shopper, just hadn't known her name.

She brushed her fingers over her skirt. "I liked this dress, too," she said sadly. "And now you…" Her eyes rose, and he could have sworn she looked… disappointed. "You've ruined another suit and Susan is going to kill me."

Felicity's eyes closed abruptly, the momentary burst of energy fading, and Oliver hurried back toward her. He opened the juice and handed it to her. She fumbled to keep her blanket closed with one hand and hold the bottle with the other. She was shaking so badly, she nearly dropped it and finally Oliver sat down beside her. He wrapped his hand around hers and helped her hold it to her lips.

Felicity took several sips, before shaking her head. "No more," she whispered. "I'll throw up."

Oliver took the bottle from her and quickly finished it off, then tossed the empty bottle toward the counter. "Feet," he ordered.

Rather than hold them out again, Felicity very inelegantly toppled over sideways onto the bunk bed and plopped one foot in his lap. Oliver just shook his head at his life. It wasn't the first time a woman had asked him to remove her shoes, but it had definitely been in much different circumstances. Only Felicity could watch him ruthlessly hunt down people at night, and still fully expect him to help her with her shoes. She'd trusted him right from the start, even when she had no reason to, when he was so brutally merciless in everything he did, back when she _shouldn't_ have. And perhaps it was that innocent trust that was partially responsible for helping him begin to find his way back, find his way to being a hero, at least to her.

Oliver quickly undid the clasps on the ankle straps of Felicity's too-high heels. He didn't remember her wearing shoes like that back when she was in IT. These days, however, she was surrounded by high-powered executives at work, and overly muscled people at their other work and he supposed she felt the need to even the physical difference as best she could.

Oliver pulled her shoes off and tossed them into the far corner. There were pressure marks on her tiny feet where the shoes had squeezed her, and without thinking Oliver brushed a hand over them to soothe the marks away.

Felicity moaned appreciatively. "Best hostage crisis _ever_," she murmured.

Oliver took that as his cue to go check the cameras. He eased Felicity more comfortably onto the bed and made sure the blanket was wrapped securely around her. Her breathing had already evened out and Oliver knew she was unconscious. He took a moment to look at her head wound which was still slightly oozing blood, but he took it as a win over the near fountain it had been at the beginning.

Oliver headed back into the main room and studied the screens. There were two very frustrated looking gunmen in what remained of the semi-exploded office. Diggle and Michaels' assistant were still somewhere he couldn't see. The only real difference was that there were flashing lights everywhere outside the mansion. There were police cars and some sort of SWAT type truck or a mobile command vehicle.

Oliver heard a quiet voice and looked around. He realized the phone was still lying on the floor where he'd dropped it earlier. The 911 person must have left the line open in case they could hear anything.

Oliver groaned as he leaned down to pick the phone up. He fumbled it badly and knew he was running out of time on several levels.

"_Hello? Is someone there?"_

"I'm here," he said through clenched teeth.

"_Are you all right? There was some sort of explosion."_

"They tried to blow open the panic room door, but it didn't work. We're still safe for the moment, but we need medical attention as soon as possible." Just thinking about his side suddenly made it throb and he bent double, the agony drowning out everything else. A few seconds later and he could hear the woman calling to him over the phone.

"_Sir? Sir, what's going on? Please, talk to me."_

Oliver brought the phone back to his ear with a shaking hand.

"_Sir?"_

"Sorry. Been a rough day."

There was the barest huff of disbelief_. "Yes, sir. There are officers outside now. They've made contact with the hostage takers. We just need you to be our eyes inside if you can."_

Oliver jumped when someone banged on the panic room door. They obviously wanted to get his attention so he looked up at the monitors and his heart stuttered. Digg and Michaels' assistant were back in the office facing one of the cameras. A gunman had a pistol held to the assistant's head. She tried to struggle away from it, but he held her tight. The second gunman held up a sign. "Open up or else."

"_Sir? What's going on?"_

Oliver clenched the phone so tightly he heard the plastic creak. "We may have a problem."

"_What's going on?"_ the dispatcher asked again.

"They have a gun to one of the hostages to make me open the door."

Oliver heard the woman take a short calming breath. _"Ok. Don't… don't do that. You'll only give them more hostages. It will make the situation worse."_

"I can't leave her out there," he growled. Every instinct he had was demanding he slap the button to open the door and come out fighting.

"_Sir, please give the negotiators a chance. I've updated them with what's happening."_

Oliver watched as the gunman dropped his aim from the woman's head to her shoulder. A second later an evil grin appeared on the man's face.

"No!"

The man put a bullet through the woman's shoulder and she dropped to the floor. Digg fought ferociously to free himself from his captor, but he too dropped to the floor after the man holding him brought the butt of his gun down on Digg's neck. He rolled over on his back, but was clearly stunned.

"_What happened?"_ the woman on the phone asked. _"The officers heard a shot."_

The man who'd shot Michaels' assistant turned his gun toward Digg, aiming straight at his head.

Oliver slammed the phone back on the hook. The police had had their chance. He pulled the .45 he'd tucked in his waistband and hit the button to open the door. His first bullet took the man who was aiming at Digg's head. The second gunman, however, was better prepared. He let loose a spray of bullets and Oliver had to summersault to land behind the remains of the huge desk as cover. He lost his grip on the gun in the process and the effort it took dazed him.

Those few seconds cost him dearly. The man came around the desk and as soon as he was in sight pulled the trigger. Oliver flinched, but realized the man's gun had jammed. Unfazed, the man kicked him furiously in his already injured side. It knocked Oliver completely flat and he watched powerlessly as the man walked into the panic room. Only a few seconds later, he returned carrying Felicity. She was completely limp in the man's arms, her head and one arm hanging loosely. All Oliver could think about was the blood on her face and how pale she looked.

Oliver tried to rise, but it was useless. His head thumped back to the floor and the last thing he saw as he lost consciousness was Felicity disappearing out the office door.

* * *

_So… I thought about making things better this chapter, but… yeah, I went with no. More soon_…


	4. Chapter 4

A little chapter to get us from A to B…

Chapter Four

* * *

Oliver awoke with a gasp as consciousness returned. His five years away meant there was no such thing as a slow awakening. He either slept or he was on alert.

Oliver tried to sit up and was immediately pressed back into the bed by a hand on his chest. His instant reaction was to fight it, but a familiar voice stopped him.

"Don't," Digg said.

Oliver took in several things at once. He was in the hospital. He was drugged far more than he found acceptable. Digg was there and Felicity was not.

"Felicity." It wasn't a question and Digg immediately understood.

"They took her and disappeared."

"They used her as a hostage to get away?"

Digg shook his head. "No, they got away clean, Oliver." And the way he said it made Oliver's stomach clench. "Michaels had an escape tunnel out of the mansion. Paranoid bastard. His assistant told them about it trying to get rid of them. Apparently, Michaels was terrified the Hood would come for him one day."

"Why Felicity?"

"They weren't there for you or Michaels. I heard them talking. Oliver, they were there for _her_."

All of the air left Oliver's lungs and he barely managed to eke out, "What?"

"They'd been following her, looking for a way to take her when no one would notice, but one of us was always with her. Seems they're on a time table. When they got wind of the meeting, they decided it was their last chance. There are too many people at Queen Consolidated and we've been working so hard she hadn't even been home in a couple of days. They didn't know about the panic room, though."

"Then why did they have the explosives?"

"They were going to take her and blow up the rest of us to cover their tracks, make it look like an attack on the evil corporate bigwigs. Nobody would have noticed there weren't enough body parts. The police wouldn't have even known Felicity was missing."

Oliver closed his eyes, guilt washing over him. He was the one who'd opened the door. He was the one who'd practically handed Felicity over to them.

"Before you beat yourself up too bad," Digg cut into his thoughts, "I gotta thank you for saving my life. They were gonna blow my head off if you hadn't opened that door. I kinda pissed 'em off when I took out a couple of their guys."

Oliver pursed his lips. He was always being given impossible choices. Save one friend, lose another. Stop one bad guy, while the other one runs off to create chaos elsewhere. Sometimes he felt like he'd never left the island. Worse, he felt like he'd brought the island home with him. There were no good choices, just disaster management, trying to keep the catastrophes to a confined area. There was no rest, no peace to be had, just one lose-lose situation after the next.

"You ok?" Oliver asked, realizing he'd forgotten to even inquire about his friend.

Digg grunted. "Roughed up, but better than you."

"How long have I been out?" Oliver glanced around and saw he was still in the ER, rather than being given his own room. He was shirtless and he had fresh bandages over his wounds. He had an IV attached, an oximeter and a blood pressure cuff, but that was it.

"Not long. You were relatively stable and there are several more serious gunshot wounds in the other rooms, Michael's security people and his assistant," Digg said by way of explanation for their being alone. "For once you were lower on the priority list. They won't be long though. One of the nurses will be back any minute."

Oliver easily grasped his meaning. They needed to be gone before someone came back to check on him. They couldn't afford the delay of the doctors trying to make him stay. If he could get back to Verdant, he could get to his supply of herbs as well as his own medical supplies. A quick patch-up job was all they had time for.

Oliver made quick work of the leads attached to him and the IV while Digg turned off the machines so the alarms wouldn't sound. Oliver then half rolled, half pushed himself into a sitting position, letting his legs fall over the side of the gurney. This time Digg didn't stop him. Oliver looked up, and saw the same desperation on his friend's face that he was feeling.

"Any idea where they took her? Or why?" He was breathing too hard with the effort of sitting up, but he couldn't let it stop him. Some things were too important. _She_ was too important to let an injury stop him.

"No clue. And they left behind everything Felicity had a tracker on."

Oliver shifted forward to put his feet on the floor. The movement was excruciating and he had to wonder how bad it would be if he weren't medicated. As so often happened, Digg seemed to understand. He put an arm beneath Oliver's and helped him stand.

Digg had apparently been preparing for their escape. He produced a scrub shirt and helped Oliver pull it over his head. It wouldn't do anything to cover his blood-stained dress slacks, but it was better than nothing.

"Like I said, I took out a couple of their guys." Digg turned and peeked through the curtain that was acting as a screen. "If we can get pictures of the bodies, I can run them through Felicity's facial recognition software, maybe figure out who they are and why they took her."

"Sounds like a plan. Where are the bodies?"

Digg pointed. "Two cubicles down. I'd have already done it, but I had to disable the security cameras first." He held up a hand in a fist, his military training showing back up as it often did in these situations. Oliver saw someone in police uniform walk past, then Digg gestured again for them to move.

Oliver fell in behind him, moving as fast as he could in his state. The ER was in a full flurry of movement, doctors and nurses hustling back and forth between several rooms that were closer to the main ER doors. Several policemen were standing around as well, but their eyes were on what was happening closer to them thankfully.

Digg ducked into a curtained room and Oliver followed. There were two men lying on gurneys, one with gunshot wounds and the other with a broken neck.

"Your work?" Oliver asked.

"Yup."

"Good," Oliver growled.

"Not good enough," Digg replied. He shook his head, his expression filled with self-recrimination. "They still got past me. They got to you and they took Felicity. That was on my watch."

Oliver put a hand on his friend's shoulder. This wasn't Digg's fault. This was Oliver's fault. He'd been right next to Felicity when she'd been shot. He was the one who'd opened the panic room door and let them get past him. "You did the best you could, Digg."

"That supposed to make me feel better?" Digg shot him a disbelieving glance.

Oliver shook his head. "We can both talk about how bad we are at our jobs later. Right now, we focus on getting Felicity back. You want a hug, you're going to have find her. That's her job in this outfit."

Digg looked like he wasn't sure whether or not to be annoyed, but he finally pulled his phone out of his pocket and started taking photos of the dead men's faces.

Just as he was putting his phone away, they heard a voice, louder than the rest of the clamor. "Where is he? Did someone move Queen?" Oliver couldn't hear a response because there were suddenly a lot more voices all talking at once.

Digg pointed to a door just across the way. "You see that door?" He waited for Oliver to nod. "It leads out of here into the rest of the hospital. You go down the hall, take two lefts then a right. I'll be waiting with the car."

"Two lefts, then a right," Oliver repeated.

"Time's a-wasting." Digg eyed him suspiciously. "Don't fall down. Think you can manage that?"

"The longer you stand here, the higher the odds I pass out. Go."

Oliver waited several seconds after Digg left, then dared a glance outside the curtain to see if the coast was clear. Whatever reason the men had taken Felicity was time sensitive. That meant he and Digg were on the clock, too. As soon as they had what they needed from Felicity, there would be no need for them to keep her alive.

Oliver couldn't do his job without her, either job. She'd insinuated her way into nearly every aspect of his life. He wasn't going to give that up any time soon, not ever if he could help it. Too many times now, his team's only non-combatant had been dragged into battle. Each time he'd made the men pay who'd dared to touch her. This time would be no different.

Oliver braced himself to move. After another glance to ensure the coast was clear, he was through the door, moving as fast as he could.

* * *

Oliver finished wrapping the ace bandages around his waist. They would hold the gauze underneath in place, keep pressure on the wounds which were still relatively dry thanks to the hemostatic powder. The bandages would also give him some extra support since there was no time to be stitched up properly.

He turned to see Digg sitting in Felicity's chair and just the sight of it hit Oliver like a ton of bricks. That was her chair, her space, her domain and she was _gone_.

Oliver limped toward him. "Anything?" It sounded harsh even to his own ears.

Digg sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I'm trying. I'm just not as good with computers as she is. I need…" He trailed off and Oliver nodded in agreement.

"We need Felicity."

"Near as I can figure it, the two dead guys were part of 'The Movement.' Felicity's been keeping tabs on them ever since that Shrapnel guy tried to blow up Alderman Blood's rally. It looks like there's been some extra activity in the past couple of weeks."

Oliver remembered her mentioning the anti-government militia group when they'd been dealing with the bombings, but he'd been more concerned with stopping the man from blowing up the rally than with his political affiliations or with the rest of his group of angry bloggers.

"What kind of activity?"

"Mostly, it looks like they were making arrangements for a meeting to discuss things in person. People coming in from all over the place, coming here to Starling. Whatever they're planning, they didn't want a record of it online. It can't be good."

"Can we find out who the other people are who were going to be at the meeting?" Oliver asked.

"Give me a minute." Digg frowned and kept pecking at the keyboard. Oliver simply continued to stare over Digg's shoulder, hoping he could glare the computers into submission.

Suddenly a new window opened on the screen and Digg held his hands up defensively. "I didn't do that."

"What is it?" Oliver leaned closer.

"It's coordinates and… Hang on…" He trailed off, typing as fast as he could manage. A few seconds later, Digg smiled for the first time since Oliver had woken up in the hospital. "Felicity. It has to be. Our girl found a way to send us a message."

Oliver felt a fresh surge of adrenaline begin to pump into his system. He needed to hit something and hopefully Felicity was about to oblige with a target. "Where are the coordinates to?"

Digg kept typing and finally a spot pulled up on the map. "That's Blood's office, Oliver. Looks like they want to finish the job." Digg frowned. "But there's a time here, too, and it says 'Diversion.' Let me look at the link she sent." He clicked on it and immediately swore. Oliver looked over his shoulder and saw a short article, little more than a blurb saying Mark Scheffer, better known as Shrapnel, their friendly neighborhood bomber, was being transferred from Iron Heights to a different facility. "They're going to blow up the offices to tie up all the law enforcement in the area and then break their buddy out before he's transferred."

"What's the time in the message?" Oliver asked.

"1530."

Oliver looked at one of the monitors to check the time. It was 3 o'clock. Blood's campaign offices would still be full of workers. They had half an hour to stop these people from killing them all as a diversion.

"Call Lance," Oliver said. "Let the police handle the bomb threat. Can you tell where Felicity sent the message from?"

"Maybe. _You_ call Lance while I work on it." Oliver heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, "_Jackass thinks I can multitask like an MIT grad_."

Oliver made the call to Lance in the guise of his alter ego, giving him the bare basics while he watched Digg typing, frowning and occasionally swearing. Oliver hung up with Lance, immediately putting that part of this mess out of his mind. The police and the bomb squad would have to earn their money today. He and Digg had their own problems.

Finally, Digg let out a noise Oliver took as triumphant. He pulled a location up on the map and pointed. "She's in a warehouse not far from Iron Heights, or at least she was when she sent the message. My guess is they're using her to hack the prison's security."

"Why _her_?" Oliver asked, newly furious that of all people they chose to take Felicity. "Why go to all of this trouble? She's not the only hacker in town."

Digg stood up and checked the clip on his gun, one of his default pre-battle rituals. "At this point, does it matter?"

"No." Oliver shook his head. "Let's go. We can be there in a few minutes."

Digg cocked his head to one side, frowning. "What about Shrapnel, Oliver?"

"I don't _care_," Oliver said through gritted teeth. "Let him escape and we'll catch him again later. Felicity comes first."

"You think it's that easy?" Digg demanded. "You think she'll forgive us if they kill some of the guards to get him out and we ignored it to save her instead? What if Shrapnel manages to set off a bomb once he's out and kill innocent people before we catch him again? She'll think it's _her_ fault, Oliver. She expects better of us. More. She'll expect us to fix _all_ this."

Oliver's jaw hurt it was clenched so tightly. "And if they kill her and dump her body while we're trying to stop a jail break? I am not giving them another _second_ with her." He knew exactly how high Felicity's expectations were for him and how disappointed she was when they, _he_, failed. He could handle her disappointment as long as she was alive to voice it.

Digg ran a hand over his close-cropped hair in frustration. "She's given us a jump on them. We just have to get to them before they make their move." He, too, looked at the clock. "The bomb's set for 3:30, so the prison break must be for shortly after that. We get to them first and take them by surprise."

Oliver glanced at his hood, but shook his head. It was broad daylight. The hood would draw more attention than they could afford and they couldn't wait for the cover of darkness this time. He couldn't. If someone saw Oliver Queen doing very un-billionaire type things, then so be it. Felicity was more important. "Let's go."

* * *

_More soon…_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks so much everybody. You guys make this worthwhile. Okey dokey… Let's get these people on the road to a rescue, eh?_

Chapter Five

* * *

Oliver landed as lightly as he could on the rooftop while Digg gingerly climbed the ancient fire escape, careful with the rusted wobbly metal. They didn't want even the tiniest noise alerting the men inside the warehouse that they'd been found, especially since they weren't sure how many men they were up against. Their best guess was no more than five, judging from the number of people they'd taken out at the mansion, and how many on the Movement blog who'd agreed to the meeting.

Oliver waited for Digg to slip into the empty office they'd scouted before sliding through the roof access door and easing down the metal staircase just inside. Every movement jostled his side, sending pain shooting across his nerve endings. He did his best to ignore it, but he knew they were going to have to end this situation quickly. He had a significantly higher pain tolerance than most, but even his reserves could last only so long. Not for the first time, he wished Sara or even Roy had answered their phone, but he didn't have time to wait for more backup.

The huge warehouse was built in two separate sections. The smaller section was offices, while the rest was clogged from concrete floor to rafters with heavy, industrial shelving. He didn't know what the warehouse had been formerly used to store, and he didn't care. All he cared about was Felicity.

He was almost certain he heard her voice and Oliver made a beeline toward it, moving amongst the steel girders that spanned the ceiling, then finally downward using the shelving like a ladder, smoothly sliding down one of the long uprights rather than noisily clanging from shelf to shelf.

When Oliver hit the concrete floor, it jarred his side hard enough that he ended up down on one knee, holding onto the shelves to remain upright while he tried to breathe through the pain. It took several precious seconds for him to recover, and he let his anger fill him, let it remind him of his purpose and why he had to get himself together.

Once Oliver could process properly again, he remained where he was, completely still, and listened. Then he heard a sound that had become as familiar to him as breathing - someone typing. The sounds of Felicity's keyboard accompanied nearly every activity of his life: office work, training, he could even hear her typing when they spoke over the comms.

His high vantage point had given him a good lay of the land. Oliver sidled from shelf to shelf, using them for cover, until finally he could see one of the gunmen. His back was to Oliver, gun in hand, leaning a shoulder against the shelves.

With one hand, Oliver grasped the man's gun to keep it from clattering to the floor. With the other, he wrapped an arm around the man's neck as he dragged him backward, closing off the airway and more importantly the blood to his brain from the arteries in his neck. Cut off the blood for a few seconds and a man blacked out, a little longer and brain damage began to set in. Knowing what this man had done, Oliver was hard pressed not to tighten his grip long after the man was slack in his arms.

Oliver eased him down to the ground and waited to see if the commotion, however small, had drawn any attention. When no one came running to check, Oliver quickly used a plastic zip tie to keep the man from interfering if he woke too soon. Oliver heard a tiny shuffling noise not far from him, followed by the faint sound of a zip tie and knew Digg had made quick work of a second gunman.

Oliver set the man's handgun down quietly and moved closer to the sounds of typing. He assumed Digg was mirroring him although he couldn't see him.

"Hurry up!" Oliver heard a man snap.

Felicity gasped and the typing abruptly stopped.

"I said hurry up!" the man nearly roared.

"Guns pointed at my head do not help me think!" Felicity's voice was painfully high and stressed. It was everything Oliver hated to hear, although the definite anger she was trying to hide made Oliver's heart swell with pride. Felicity might be afraid, but she didn't back down, not for him when he was being a jerk and not for a bunch of thugs.

"You're stalling!" The sharp sound of flesh on flesh had Oliver hurrying forward. He came around the corner in time to see Felicity topple from the chair where she'd been seated and fall to the floor, stunned, her cheek already turning red.

The man who'd struck her was the same one who would have shot Oliver if his gun hadn't jammed, the same man who'd carried Felicity out of the panic room. He was tall, stoop-shouldered and had a flat, mashed-in face like a bulldog. Oliver wanted to close the distance between them and break the man's neck with his bare hands. It was what he deserved. He stopped, however, when another member of the gang approached from the opposite direction. This one was shorter and more leanly muscled.

"Carter, you better look at this." He held out his cell phone and Oliver could see it was playing video.

The apparent leader, Carter, took one look at the small screen and rounded on Felicity. "Bitch! You warned them!" he snarled and Oliver realized that the media must have heard about the bomb threat and broken in to normal programming to report on it.

Felicity cowered away from him as the man reached to grab her. Oliver didn't hesitate. He pulled a knife from a sheath he'd strapped to his forearm and let it fly. It took the man in the same hand he'd used to slap Felicity, the same hand he had outstretched to haul her back to her feet.

The man howled in pain and turned toward Oliver. He ripped the knife from his hand and grabbed Felicity, blood smearing her arm. He pulled her up and swung her around in front of him as a shield, one arm wrapped around her chest, the other holding the knife Oliver had thrown.

The second militia member pulled a gun and aimed it at Oliver, although he was still shielded from view by the shelving. The man wasn't prepared for Diggle, who had managed to sneak up within only a few feet of him. One swift blow and the man was on the ground, no longer a threat.

Carter glanced at his downed partner and immediately shifted so that Felicity was protecting him from both Oliver and Digg. The man finally got a good look at Oliver and his eyes widened in recognition. "Is this some kind of joke?" he spat.

Oliver ignored him. "You took something that doesn't belong to you," he replied, his voice a low growl.

"Your secretary?" he asked, completely incredulous.

"Assistant," Felicity muttered under her breath. "An' I don't b'long t'anybody." Oliver would have laughed if he weren't feeling so murderous.

"The prison's been warned about the attempt and the bomb's being dismantled as we speak." On the way over, he and Digg had decided to warn the prison as well. The Arrow had returned enough escaped prisoners now, the warden had at least agreed to take his call. To his surprise, the warden at Iron Heights was already holding up the transfer due to an attempt to hack their system and change the transfer arrangements. Oliver had simply shaken his head. Felicity was too good. She must have purposely done a shoddy job so she'd get caught and the prison would be aware something was up. She'd endangered herself to keep Shrapnel behind bars. Oliver was unbelievably proud and yet wanted to shake some sense into her. The thought of the risk she'd run had him seeing red.

"It's over," Oliver said coldly. "You're finished."

The man holding Felicity scowled, freshly incensed. His arm tightened around her ribcage until she gasped in pain. She still seemed slightly dazed. No doubt another blow to the head was the very last thing she'd needed. Someone had at least allowed her to clean the blood from her face, but her hair was still matted with it and her clothes were ruined. She seemed tiny next to the tall man holding her and Oliver realized it was partially because she was still barefoot.

"Hurt her again," Oliver warned, "and you won't live long enough to get arrested."

"Oh, I don't think so." Carter smiled nastily. "See, after Shrapnel got arrested, we wanted to know how he got caught. We got our hands on the surveillance video of these two," he glanced momentarily at Digg, "trying to diffuse his bomb. We were having trouble figuring out who they were until we looked at the video surveillance from Shrapnel's shop. There was video of the Hood talking to 'Felicity' and 'Diggle.' Kinda sloppy if you ask me. Although, you managed to keep that video out of the cops' hands. Her doing, I guess, since we figured out Miss MIT grad here is the one who hacked our system." He used the knife to point at Felicity, the blade perilously close to her face. Carter's eyes narrowed. "We can take out the Alderman anytime we want and Shrapnel screwed up. I won't cry if we don't get him out. But one thing we knew… if we took this one," he jabbed the knife toward Felicity again, "to hack the prison computer system, the Hood would show up to rescue her. You stuck your nose where it doesn't belong and that… that we can't let pass."

Oliver completely ignored it all. Villains did seem to like to talk. Oliver tended toward the strong, silent end of the spectrum. When you were in a fight for your life, talking gave away your position. A good predator knew to be still and silent, then strike at the opportune moment.

"I thought maybe you got lucky when you shot my buddy at the office. But this," he held up the knife, "makes _you_ the one who's spoiled our plans, twice now. Surprise, surprise… you're not as useless as you'd like everyone to think."

"I'll be more than happy to show you just how useful I can be," he said through gritted teeth.

Oliver had heard the man sneaking up on him and had just been waiting for him to get close enough. He felt the gun nudge the center of his back between his shoulder blades. In several practiced movements, Oliver turned and grasped the man's gun in one hand, pushing it aside while simultaneously landing a strategically targeted punch to the face with only one purpose, to knock a man down and keep him down. Once he was unconscious at Oliver's feet, Oliver pivoted back to stare down the gunman holding Felicity.

Oliver startled when he heard a shot. A quick glance told him that Digg had taken out another man who'd also been trying to sneak up on them.

Oliver focused his glare on the militia leader. "You were saying?"

Carter's eyes widened in alarm. He clearly hadn't planned on Oliver and Digg so easily divesting him of all his fellow Movement members. He pulled Felicity closer, but she wasn't cooperating either. She'd been dazed before, but she looked barely conscious now, slowly sagging downwards. Carter hauled her up like a ragdoll and Felicity tried to rally at the rough handling.

"Doesn't matter," Carter snapped. "I'm leaving and you're not gonna stop me." He looked around, then seemed to settle on making his way toward the closest exit. "You come one step closer and she'd dead." He flipped the knife one handed, holding it in front of Felicity aimed at her stomach. The move made Oliver halt. Carter's familiarity with a knife was evident.

"Ohhh… Don't like that, do you?" Carter observed. "Don't want your pretty little lady hurt." He kept moving toward the exit, forcing Diggle to sidestep out of his way. "Let's see. If you cross me, I could…" He made a sharp motion with the knife that had Oliver starting forward in alarm. He stopped, however, at the man's warning look. "A punctured liver. Now that would be ugly." He grinned nastily. "Or a kidney maybe?" He made a slashing motion across her belly. "How would you feel about a perforated bowel? The infection could take weeks to kill her. That would certainly teach you a lesson."

Oliver didn't say a word. He only had eyes for Felicity. She was barely alert, but for just a second, hardly enough for him to catch, she looked up at him and their eyes met. She very purposely dropped her eyes to the floor and Oliver knew what she was about to do.

Felicity went completely limp, her full weight pulling on Carter's arm as she sank downward. It took the man a second to realize what had happened and that second was all it took. Oliver had another knife pulled from the sheath on his forearm and it caught the man above the wrist, forcing him to drop the knife he'd been threatening her with.

"Don't move," Digg bellowed, gun trained on Carter.

"You're still gonna pay for this," the man snarled. "I'm gonna tell the whole world who you are."

Felicity had fallen to the floor and had yet to move. Oliver glanced toward Digg who gave him a short nod to say he was on guard. "Back up," Digg ordered the man. "Now. Before I'm not feeling so generous." Carter did as he was told, although he was red-faced with fury.

Oliver hurried forward. He intended to kneel beside Felicity, but instead fell to his knees. He realized the drugs they'd given him at the hospital were wearing off and he wasn't entirely sure he could get back up if he wanted to.

"Felicity?" Oliver turned her so that she was looking up at him. Her eyes were half-open, barely conscious.

"Get him?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "With your help."

"Then can'I go t'the hospit'l now?" she slurred.

"Absolutely."

Oliver's eyes snapped up at the sound of a near growl to see Carter once again pulling the knife out of his arm that Oliver had thrown. Digg didn't hesitate. He fired and the knife clattered to the floor before Carter fell to the ground dead only a few feet from Felicity's prone form.

Oliver barely had a moment to think that his identity was once again safe before he guiltily realized that it had taken another man's death to ensure it. He'd made promises to Tommy, to Felicity, to _himself_. Never mind that the man had hurt Felicity and he'd wanted him dead for that alone.

Oliver looked up at Diggle, half wanting to thank him for stopping the man from throwing the knife, and half wanting to blame him for killing the man when wounding him might have worked just as well.

Diggle moved closer and kicked the knife farther away from Carter's dead hand. He then knelt at Felicity's side and pulled her into his arms. They both knew Oliver wasn't well enough to carry her.

Digg looked down at Felicity's face, now smooth in sleep. He glanced at Carter's body then met Oliver's critical gaze. "You're not the only one who gets pissed when she's hurt, Oliver."

Digg rose from the floor and headed for the exit. Oliver rose as well, although far less gracefully, and followed.

* * *

_The wrap up soon…_


	6. Chapter 6

_And here you have it, all wrapped up. Hopefully, this was a bit like an episode to help tide us over during the hiatus. Thank you for each and every kind review._

Chapter Six

* * *

Oliver startled awake and immediately frowned. He was back in the hospital, in a room this time instead of the ER and once again, he was clearly drugged. He didn't like the drugs. Drugs made a person sloppy, they lowered response time, and they made a person vulnerable. Oliver had no place in his life for lowered inhibitions or slower reflexes.

Oliver struggled to focus his tumbling thoughts. "Felicity." The name fell from his lips before he could call it back.

His eyes roamed the room desperately and finally landed on a sofa up against the wall beneath the windows. Felicity was lying on the sofa, stretched out under a blanket, fast asleep.

"She's ok, Ollie." Oliver's eyes snapped back and he realized Thea was sitting in a chair a few feet away. "They released her a few hours ago, but she wouldn't leave until she knew you were ok. She said you saved her life at the mansion, that it's how you got hurt." She stood and came closer to the head of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Oliver frowned. "Confused. What happened? How did I get here?" It wasn't a lie either. He remembered leaving the warehouse, but nothing after that.

"Mr. Diggle had to work overtime thanks to you two." When Oliver just frowned uncertainly, she added, "He followed the men who took Felicity. When he brought her here, he found out you'd managed to wander out of the ER with nobody any the wiser, and went looking for you. And don't think Mom didn't threaten the hospital with every type of lawsuit imaginable for letting you get out. I thought she was gonna have a stroke."

"Not their fault," Oliver said, mentally reorganizing to account for Digg's cover story. "I don't really remember… Must've been the pain meds…"

"You were bleeding internally, Ollie." She grasped his hand and Oliver could see the fear still lingering in her expression. "We heard about the hostage thing on the news, but by the time Mom and I got here you were missing… Then Mr. Diggle brought you back and…" Thea frowned at him, trying to look stern, which on her was just kind of… cute. "You're not supposed to get shot, Ollie. Or die. Ever again. Got it?"

Oliver smiled. "Got it. Mom still here?" He tried not to let it show how much he hoped the answer was no. He could barely bring himself to be civil to her since he'd learned about Thea's true parentage and with the drugs in his system, he wasn't sure he could keep his mouth shut in front of his sister.

"She left a little while ago. Campaign stuff." Thea shrugged as if it didn't matter, but Oliver could tell it bothered her that she'd chosen her political meetings over her children, one of whom was hurt. "Visiting hours are almost over anyway. She said she'd be back tomorrow."

Oliver nodded. "How long have I been out?"

"Since yesterday."

That got his attention. "Yesterday?"

Thea just rolled her eyes. "You were _shot_ and _bleeding internally_. You expected to just hop out of bed and go back to work?"

Oliver just raised an eyebrow. Wouldn't be the first time.

Thea huffed. "I am surrounded by morons. I swear testosterone makes men dumber. Maybe by the time you and Roy are old, and your testosterone levels drop, you'll be smarter. Nice, sweet, smart, old men who won't make me crazy."

Oliver squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, Speedy. I'll be making you crazy 'til we're both old and gray."

Thea narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"Have you slept at all?" he asked. His sister looked exhausted and worn, and he was sorry that he was once again the cause.

She shrugged. "Knowing your brother was shot by a bunch of crazy people kind of takes precedence."

Oliver nodded and gave her hand another squeeze. "You should go home then. Get some rest. I'm just gonna lay here and sleep for a while."

"Sure you're not going to wander off again?" she asked accusingly.

"Not on my watch," came a deep voice from the doorway.

Oliver and Thea both looked up as Diggle walked into the room. "I'll make sure he stays put this time," he promised her.

Oliver realized Thea must have been even more tired than she looked, because she didn't even argue. She just smiled at Digg then turned back to Oliver. "I'm glad you're ok." She leaned down and hugged him. "I'll be back in the morning."

"Get some rest," he urged.

"You, too." She smiled tiredly and then left, nodding and quietly thanking Diggle again as she passed.

Digg waited for her to leave before closing the oversized hospital room door and stepping closer to the bed. "You ok? Cause I had to carry your heavy ass after you passed out outside the warehouse."

Oliver grimaced, but said, "Just helping you out. You could use some work on your upper body strength."

Digg grunted and shook his head, his expression clearly offering his thoughts on that. He quickly sobered, however, and said, "Had to make up for letting those jerks get past me in the first place."

Oliver frowned. "You did the best you could."

Digg glanced toward Felicity. "Not good enough."

"She was standing right next to me when she got hurt. That's on me," Oliver countered.

"Well, you're both idiots," Felicity muttered. "So there's that." She struggled out from under the blanket and sat up, groaning and holding a hand to her head which was obviously hurting her. Oliver was pleased to note all traces of blood were gone from her hair and she'd been able to change clothes. Felicity had set her glasses on the arm of the sofa while she slept. She grabbed them and put them on, her eyes moving from Oliver to Diggle and back again as the world came into focus. "Pretty sure I got hurt because a bunch of slack-jawed militia types decided to cause problems. I'm also prepared to blame Adrian Michaels for all the stainless steel in the panic room. If those cabinets had been wood, we wouldn't have had the ricochet problem."

"Felicity-" Digg started, but she immediately shushed him. She rose from the sofa, only slightly unsteady, and walked across the small room before reaching up and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks for coming after me."

"Always," he said seriously.

"Especially since we both know Oliver never would have figured out the message I sent. He's great with the shooting people, but so-so with the electronics."

Digg just snorted. "I put him on phone duty."

"You are wise beyond your years," she said smiling up at him.

Digg leaned down conspiratorially. "You might want to go thank Oliver now. He's actually trying to burn a hole in my skull with his glare," he stage-whispered.

Oliver could almost swear he saw a twinkle in her eye, because she very purposely kept her attention on Diggle. "How do you feel?"

John just smiled. "Better."

Oliver's brow furrowed, and not just because they were ignoring him. "What happened?"

"He dislocated his shoulder," Felicity said as if Oliver weren't too bright.

"When?"

"At the mansion," Digg answered. "One of those guys was nearly as mean a fighter as you."

Oliver's eyes narrowed. That meant Diggle had gone into the warehouse, he'd climbed the fire escape, with a bad shoulder to save Felicity. "You told me you were fine," Oliver said, tone accusatory.

Digg smirked. "Pretty sure I said I was better than you."

"But…"

"No buts, man. We both had a job to do."

Oliver looked at him for another second before finally nodding. They'd vowed to protect her and that's what they'd done, injured or not.

"Awww," Felicity cooed. "You may be big, macho idiots, but you're good guys."

Digg put an arm around her and pulled her in close to his side. "Just glad you're ok."

"Me, too." Felicity looked up at him. "Now go home. We're both ok."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Digg sighed, suddenly looked older and tired. "Sara and Roy are holding the fort tonight, so I'm going home. I'll be back tomorrow though. You two think you can stay out of trouble that long?"

Felicity nodded. "He's drugged and I'm going to take another nap."

"You should go home, too."

Felicity just smiled at him. "I will," she glanced toward Oliver, "in a bit."

Digg snorted and shook his head and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "I'm not the only idiot around here."

Once he was gone, Felicity turned back toward Oliver. She smiled self-consciously and walked closer to the bed. Before his drug addled brain could think better of it, he held his hand out toward her. Felicity hesitated but finally grasped it in her own and for the first time since the gunmen entered the mansion Oliver felt like he could breathe again. "You ok?"

"Thanks to you two."

"Your head?"

"Concussion." She used her free hand to brush her fingers over her hair which was down. "They had to shave a little bit, but I've got enough extra to cover the bald spot until it grows back in. So, in short… Headache, a _really_ bad haircut, but not dead… Go team. Although, I lost my shoes somehow… Don't really remember that part. But I loved those shoes. Kind of Cinderella, isn't it?"

Oliver's lips thinned into a smile and his hold tightened on her hand. "I'll find them for you once the police tape's gone."

Felicity let out a nervous laugh, pulling her hand from his grip. "Nah. That would make you Prince Charming. I mean we all know you're kind of charming despite the whole GRRR… side of your personality," she actually included the little clawed hand gesture, "and I guess since you're the heir apparent and all to everything Queen related… but I mean you're _you_, so, umm…" She finally looked at him and seemed to realize what had been coming out of her mouth. She let out a quick puff of air and tried to reel herself back in. "Yeah… no. I'll hack the SCPD database, and get them released from evidence. Unless there's blood on them. Did I get blood on them?"

Oliver shook his head. "They seemed to be in good shape when I took them off."

Her eyes widened. "_You_ took them off?"

"You asked me to."

"Ok…" Felicity looked down and away. "Awkward."

Oliver decided to take pity on her. "Barefoot or not, I'm just glad you're all right." He'd rarely been that scared and Oliver had five years of nearly unending disaster and horror to measure it by. The sight of Felicity unconscious and bleeding had been more than enough to terrify him. "Did they… When we were in the warehouse, I saw him hit you…" He raised his arm slightly and pointed toward her cheek.

"It's ok." Felicity laid a hand against her slightly bruised cheek. "They actually let me clean up a bit. After that they watched me, but they couldn't really tell what I was doing on the computer. They didn't get mad until the end… just left me alone to do the job as well as draw you in. So… at least they appreciated my mad hacker skills."

"You don't have to get kidnapped to be appreciated, Felicity." Oliver could feel his eyes beginning to droop.

"Does that mean I get a raise? Cause this was on company time, buddy, and it should totally qualify for combat pay."

Oliver huffed out a tiny laugh. "Of course, Ms. Smoak."

"Oliver?"

Her worried tone brought his eyes open. He hadn't even realized they were closed. "Hmm?" He didn't like the frown on her face. Felicity should be smiling, and light-hearted.

"I'm sorry they took me to get to you."

"Other way around," he replied solemnly. "I'm sorry they took you to get to me."

Felicity cocked her head to one side, eyeing him. Finally, she said, "Call it even?" although Oliver could tell she was still unhappy, which he supposed was only to be expected since he was just as unhappy.

"No," he said softly. "I expect to get hurt. It's never ok for you to be in harm's way." He closed his eyes, physically blocking out the idea of her being hurt because of him. "I don't even want to think about it."

Oliver tried to open his eyes again, but they refused to comply. He vaguely registered when Felicity stepped closer and placed a hand on his forearm. "Get some rest, Oliver."

His brain wanted to say all kinds of things. "Don't leave." "You should go." "I'm glad you're all right." "It's my fault you were hurt." "I want you here when I wake up." "You should run as far and as fast as you can." "Stay. I'll keep you safe." "It's dangerous to be anywhere near me."

As usually happened, he said nothing. Felicity would make her own decisions anyway.

As he slipped into sleep, he heard her return to the sofa, followed by a bit of shuffling and then the soft, almost inaudible plinking noises of her typing on her tablet. She was going to stay and it settled something inside him to know it. She would leave before visiting hours began in the morning. She wouldn't want to be there when his mother or sister returned. For the time being, however, she was there and it was enough.

* * *

_Hope y'all enjoyed it. Been a pleasure and thanks for reading! _


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